José Otero Dr. Michael T. Williamson ENGL 864 25 June 2014 Religious Poetry Response When I talk about religious poetry, I narrow myself to the works that espouse religious doctrine and make appeals to a higher power. These types of poems typically reference a deity who the speakers believe acts within this world. This would be opposed to more deistic types of appeals that might call upon “the heavens” or nature in some fashion for strength or guidance, but the concept of this deity is so abstract as to be divorced from any concrete functioning in the real world. This view of the religious, however, might change over time. When Homer or some other ancient poet is appealing to the muses or gods, they may have been sincere. But we are so distanced from that time period and belief system that it is difficult to read those appeals as religious anymore. No one believes in Zeus or Odin today. And over time, the appeals to a Judeo-Christian god will probably be seen in much the same way. Perhaps everyone will be appealing to L. Ron Hubbard and Emperor Xenu in their poetry, and we will all read in wonder at their devotion. I’m being a little facetious, but religions develop and evolve over time and eventually fade away. More interesting and more important, however, are the underlying philosophical principles that undergird the poetry. Here, we might make another separation. There are those poems that are focused on expressing how devout the speaker is and how wonderful his or her god is, but these poems don’t offer much to the reader, or at least to the secular reader. Then there are those poems that are certainly religious in nature, but they approach that religion in a way that reveals philosophies that can be used in the material world. Even more interesting to me is the way some of these religious poems critique or revise the religion itself. It is in this conversation between the poet and the dogma that we as readers can really learn something about people and the world. So when I look at Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s religious poetry, I am most interested in the places where she seems to challenge biblical texts. I am not a religious scholar in any sense of the word, so it would be better to say that she is perhaps challenging my assumptions about what religious people believe. But I do have to say, and just taking Christianity as an example, that there are almost as many versions of Christianity as there are Christians in the world. Everyone seems to have their own unique interpretations of what is supposed to be divine law. This is problematic, but I am going off topic. The first poem of Browning’s that I find interesting is “The Virgin Mary to the Child Jesus.” First, it is powerful that Mary is finally given a voice, and that it is Jesus who is silent. More interesting to me is the characterization of Jesus. For instance, in the second verse, Mary asks her baby if “thou come for saving?” (13). This, of course, prophesizes Jesus’ death on the cross to save mankind. But here is a point where I don’t have the religious knowledge. Was Mary told this by the angel? I think she was, but I’m not sure. In any case, the last lines are almost humorous to me: “But thou, with that close slumber on thy mouth, / Dost seem of wind and sun already weary. / Art come for saving, O my weary One?” 18-20). God, who is all powerful, comes to earth, but is exhausted. That is funny to me. But more important is Mary’s questioning. She is not stating that he has come to save humankind; she is asking. Depending on the tone in which one reads this, this is a provocative question. Can this baby truly be god? He appears to be simply a baby. This point is made even stronger later in the poem: “The incense, myrrh and gold / These baby hands were impotent to hold” (71-72). God, even baby-god, cannot physically hold the gifts brought to him. He does not possess the strength. To believers, this may be an indication that god has truly taken human form. But isn’t it a bit rebellious of EBB to point out that god could not have physically survived in the world without his mother. What does this suggest about the power of women? Even gods cannot survive without them. As we move through the poem, Mary begins to see Jesus as more than just a baby, but there is still the elevation of Mary at the end. EBB points out that it was Mary who created god: “for me alone / To hold in hands created, crying—Son!” (171-72). And the emphasis on the fact the he is her son and that he is crying really heightens the importance of Mary. But perhaps those last lines should be read to suggest that Mary’s hands were the ones that were created and that she is the one crying. After all, her tear falls in the next stanza, and Jesus is supposed to be asleep. In any case, I think the focus on Mary and how it may work to revise how she is actually portrayed in the bible is worth looking into.
Dr. Michael T. Williamson
ENGL 864
25 June 2014
Religious Poetry Response
When I talk about religious poetry, I narrow myself to the works that espouse religious doctrine and make appeals to a higher power. These types of poems typically reference a deity who the speakers believe acts within this world. This would be opposed to more deistic types of appeals that might call upon “the heavens” or nature in some fashion for strength or guidance, but the concept of this deity is so abstract as to be divorced from any concrete functioning in the real world. This view of the religious, however, might change over time. When Homer or some other ancient poet is appealing to the muses or gods, they may have been sincere. But we are so distanced from that time period and belief system that it is difficult to read those appeals as religious anymore. No one believes in Zeus or Odin today. And over time, the appeals to a Judeo-Christian god will probably be seen in much the same way. Perhaps everyone will be appealing to L. Ron Hubbard and Emperor Xenu in their poetry, and we will all read in wonder at their devotion. I’m being a little facetious, but religions develop and evolve over time and eventually fade away.
More interesting and more important, however, are the underlying philosophical principles that undergird the poetry. Here, we might make another separation. There are those poems that are focused on expressing how devout the speaker is and how wonderful his or her god is, but these poems don’t offer much to the reader, or at least to the secular reader. Then there are those poems that are certainly religious in nature, but they approach that religion in a way that reveals philosophies that can be used in the material world. Even more interesting to me is the way some of these religious poems critique or revise the religion itself. It is in this conversation between the poet and the dogma that we as readers can really learn something about people and the world.
So when I look at Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s religious poetry, I am most interested in the places where she seems to challenge biblical texts. I am not a religious scholar in any sense of the word, so it would be better to say that she is perhaps challenging my assumptions about what religious people believe. But I do have to say, and just taking Christianity as an example, that there are almost as many versions of Christianity as there are Christians in the world. Everyone seems to have their own unique interpretations of what is supposed to be divine law. This is problematic, but I am going off topic. The first poem of Browning’s that I find interesting is “The Virgin Mary to the Child Jesus.” First, it is powerful that Mary is finally given a voice, and that it is Jesus who is silent. More interesting to me is the characterization of Jesus. For instance, in the second verse, Mary asks her baby if “thou come for saving?” (13). This, of course, prophesizes Jesus’ death on the cross to save mankind. But here is a point where I don’t have the religious knowledge. Was Mary told this by the angel? I think she was, but I’m not sure. In any case, the last lines are almost humorous to me: “But thou, with that close slumber on thy mouth, / Dost seem of wind and sun already weary. / Art come for saving, O my weary One?” 18-20). God, who is all powerful, comes to earth, but is exhausted. That is funny to me. But more important is Mary’s questioning. She is not stating that he has come to save humankind; she is asking. Depending on the tone in which one reads this, this is a provocative question. Can this baby truly be god? He appears to be simply a baby. This point is made even stronger later in the poem: “The incense, myrrh and gold / These baby hands were impotent to hold” (71-72). God, even baby-god, cannot physically hold the gifts brought to him. He does not possess the strength.
To believers, this may be an indication that god has truly taken human form. But isn’t it a bit rebellious of EBB to point out that god could not have physically survived in the world without his mother. What does this suggest about the power of women? Even gods cannot survive without them. As we move through the poem, Mary begins to see Jesus as more than just a baby, but there is still the elevation of Mary at the end. EBB points out that it was Mary who created god: “for me alone / To hold in hands created, crying—Son!” (171-72). And the emphasis on the fact the he is her son and that he is crying really heightens the importance of Mary. But perhaps those last lines should be read to suggest that Mary’s hands were the ones that were created and that she is the one crying. After all, her tear falls in the next stanza, and Jesus is supposed to be asleep. In any case, I think the focus on Mary and how it may work to revise how she is actually portrayed in the bible is worth looking into.